Riddle in Stone (The Riddle in Stone Series - Book One) (38 page)

“Are you? Very well, Edmund. Then give me the document.”

What now? He’ll never let you leave.

Buy time for the others to get away.

“Edmund,” the Undead King said with a gentle urgency, “give it to me.”

Maybe I can force him to finally reveal himself.

He’s a wraith, he can’t be seen.

Perhaps. But maybe he can be killed. I just need to know where he is.

Edmund threw the wadded up sheet of vellum between two rows of bookshelves. As Kravel and Gurding watched it bounce toward them, Edmund inched his way toward the secret door.

“Edmund,” the Undead King said, annoyed. “Don’t be difficult. And please do not damage the document anymore than you have. I am surprised that an antiquarian would behave in such a manner.”

Come on! Pick up the paper, Kar-Nazar. Let me see where you are.

“Mr. Kravel,” the Undead King said. “If you please . . . ”

Kravel stepped into the room. Keeping an uneasy eye on Edmund, he picked up the wadded up ball and unraveled it.

Damn! He didn’t fall for it.

Be alert! He could be anywhere.

“I can’t read this,” Kravel said.

“No, but I can.” The Undead King’s voice lightened, as if he were finally certain that what Edmund found was what he had long desired—the formula to Iliandor’s indestructible steel. “Well done, Master Scholar. You are one of the greatest of your profession! The history books will remember you far more than Iliandor. And with kinder words. I will see to that.”

Edmund crept closer to the open secret door. He tried to get Thorax’s attention, but she was preoccupied sniffing the air to her right.

“Very good, Edmund,” the Undead King said. “Now give us the rest of it.”

Buy time.

“Remember our deal. You said that if I solved the, the, the . . . the riddle, I could go back to Rood and you’d let me be.”

“I’m afraid that will not be the case now.”

Exactly what I thought.

Just keep stalling for time. Give Molly and Pond a chance to escape.

“You know who I am,” the Undead King said. “And I’m quite sure you know who I was long before I killed your precious Iliandor.”

Keep him talking.

“You’re Kar-Nazar, the elven lord in the faerie tales who caused the civil war between your people,” Edmund said, taking another step toward the secret door. “You killed off nearly all of your kind.”

“I,” the Undead King said, his fury building. “I killed off my people?”

Thorax snarled.

“I didn’t kill my people,” the Undead King thundered. “It was you!”

“Me?” Edmund scoffed.

That’s it. Get him mad. Make him do something rash. If I can tell where he is, I might be able to—

“You miserable human,” the Undead King bellowed. “For eons my people were content, joyously basking in the fruits of our intellectual pursuits, living in the heaven we labored so long to create.”

To Thorax’s right, the black fluid on the ground rippled. She snapped at the air.

“Then you humans infiltrated these lands, bringing with you your filth and disease. It was you who killed us. You! And soon, I will make you all pay.”

Keep him talk—

Suddenly, something smashed into Edmund’s left side. He flew through the air and slammed to the floor, his head bouncing off the tile. Something latched onto his throat—an unseen hand, wide and muscular. It lifted Edmund off the ground. His feet flayed in the air, his arms striking out in all directions. Something grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the vellum pages. It squeezed.

Kravel and Gurding rushed forward, swords ready. They wavered, apparently unsure of what to do.

Thorax snapped at the invisible foe. Then, as if kicked, her head cracked to one side. She squealed as she skidded along the floor, rolling through the liquid Pond and Norb had cast about in a wide semi-circle.

“
Fyre
—”

The invisible hand around Edmund’s throat tightened, choking off the words before they passed his lips.

Edmund couldn’t breathe. His lungs burned. His eye bulged.

“Drop the formula, Edmund,” the Undead King said. “Drop it!”

Getting to her feet, Thorax sprang into the air. She grabbed a hold of something and bit down. The fur around her mouth turned red. Blood dripped from her teeth. There was a cry of pain as Thorax thrashed in midair, tearing at whatever she grabbed on to.

The Undead King swore. With superhuman strength, he flung Thorax across the room. She crashed into a bookshelf and plummeted to the ground, heavy tomes toppling on top of her.

“
Fyre av
—”

The unseen hand around Edmund’s throat reasserted itself. Edmund kicked, his foot coming in contact with something invisible in front of him. He kicked again.

“Drop it!” the Undead King repeated.

Yelling like a lunatic, a figure pounced out from the darkness beyond the secret door, gems flashing. Pond lunged forward, stabbing his rapier into the air in front of Edmund.

There was another screech of pain.

The last six inches of Pond’s thin blade dripped with blood.

Edmund fell to the floor, his lungs sucking in air with a great coughing wheeze.

Pond pulled his rapier back for another blow, but Kravel and Gurding were on him. Kravel tackled Pond and hurled him to the ground. Gurding’s knife flashed in the torch light, ripping into Pond’s stomach. Pond screamed, his midsection awash in crimson.

“
Fyre av nå
!”

There was a popping sound.

The Undead King cried, “No!”

Sprawled out on the floor, Edmund threw the burning vellum sheets as far as he could. They scattered like leaves in the wind, several landing in the oil that Pond and Norb had thrown about the library. A wall of blue flame erupted with a gale.

“No!” The Undead King cried again.

The flames flew around them in a wide arc, racing up the rows of wooden bookshelves. Black smoke billowed to the ceiling. Fire crackled as it consumed the ancient tomes.

Silhouetted by the flames, an outline of a monstrous figure appeared. Tall and foreboding, the Undead King’s shadowy shape flew after the pages.

“Get the formula!” the Undead King shouted. “Get it!”

Kravel and Gurding sprang into the fire, picking up all the pages they could reach. Ashes, like smoldering rain, began swirling in the air.

“Pond,” Edmund said, crawling toward his pit mate.

Dark blood seeped out between Pond’s fingers. He coughed. Blood trickled out of his mouth.

“H-hold, hold on.” Edmund put his hands over Pond’s stomach and took a deep breath.

You’re too tired. You can’t cast that spell now. Wait a few minutes.

He doesn’t have a few minutes.

Edmund closed his eyes and concentrated. “
Smerte av reise
!”

His mind going blank, his skin cold, Edmund swooned and fell against the wall as the ugly incision in Pond’s belly began to close.

Kravel and Gurding sped around the room, diving for the pages as their edges blackened and curled. Many were already half-devoured.

The shadowy figure in the middle of the flames lifted the charred remains of two pages.

“Damn you, you miserable little human!” the Undead King cried. “I’ll make you suffer like you’ve never suffered before!”

The Undead King stalked through the inferno as if it were merely scarlet fog. The towering flames parted and swirled around him, giving his ghastly form shape. He turned toward Edmund where he lay against the wall, struggling to breathe. As black smoke swirled around him, the Undead King reached for Edmund’s throat.

“I’ll show you what an eternity of torment feels like!”

Thorax crawled out from underneath the mound of books and limped toward the specter. With a tremendous effort, she leapt and latched onto its outstretched arm, her jaws biting down with a crunch.

A piercing scream shot through the library. The papers in Undead King’s hands fell back into the burning oil.

The fires consumed more of the books around them. Flames vaulted from bookcase to bookcase. Blinding smoke filled the room.

Roaring, the ghostly figure of the Undead King spun, swinging Thorax in the air. As she swung, a smoldering cinder landed on her fur. The oil she rolled through ignited. Flames wrapped around her. But she didn’t let go of the Undead King’s arm.

Edmund opened a blurry eye.

“Thorax!” he cried, reaching out for her.

The Undead King beat Thorax against a crumbling bookcase as she blazed like a torch. The scent of scorched hair, then roasting meat, mingled with the aroma of burning books and oily smoke. But still Thorax held on.

Gagging on ashes, Edmund crawled toward Thorax as the Undead King pounded her against a bookcase engulfed in flames.

A hand grabbed Edmund’s calf.

“Come on,” Pond said, pulling Edmund leg toward the secret door.

“No,” he said staggering to his feet. “I have to save—”

Tumbling through the air, Thorax hit the wall next to the secret door and toppled to the ground. Edmund ran to her, smothering the flames that still danced over her blackened body.

Thorax!

He scooped her up in his arms.

Her brown eyes opened. She licked his face, and then went still.

“Come on!” Pond said, pulling on Edmund’s shoulder.

Crying, Edmund hobbled after Pond, Thorax’s head flopping lifelessly against his chest as he fled.

“I’m sorry,” Pond said. “I know how much she meant to you. But, if it helps, she’s in a better place.”

It doesn’t help.

Edmund wiped his eye again as he huddled over Thorax’s body.

She smells like that damn dog they roasted in the pit.

I’ll never eat meat again.

“Ed . . . we have to get going. Your enlargement spells won’t last for long, if they haven’t battered down the secret door already.”

Edmund stroked Thorax’s burnt head, her black skin cracking. “I’m . . . I’m sorry, girl. I’m so sorry.”

“Ed . . . ”

Edmund gently laid Thorax’s body under a cedar tree and covered it with his cloak.

Perhaps if you just studied more when you were younger, you would have had a spell that would have helped.

He wiped his nose on his sleeve and snorted.

“Ed . . . ”

Edmund nodded. “I’ll come back . . . I’ll, I’ll come back someday, girl. Someday. I’ll visit you. I promise.”

Remember this spot.

“I love you.”

Crying, he retreated a step, lifted his hand in a final farewell, and began running westward with Pond.

They sprinted down the hills, leaping over boulders, ducking under low branches, and darting around the countless evergreens foresting the plunging slopes. When they reached the bottom of the valley, Edmund slid to a halt. Something was in front of them. He could hear grunting and shuffling, like an angry animal struggling through the underbrush.

“What is it?” Pond asked. “Why did you stop?”

Placing a finger to his lips, Edmund beckoned for Pond to follow. As he snuck forward, he reached for his scimitar, but found that it wasn’t in its sheath.

You’re weaponless. Get the hell out of here. Run!

No. It might be . . .

Edmund peered between two cedar trees, unable to breathe.

Get the hell out of here. Leave them be. Leave them be and get the hell out of here!

“What is it?” Pond asked again, looking around Edmund’s shoulder.

There, a couple hundred yards before him, were Norb and Molly. Norb had his arm around Molly’s waist as she hobbled through the valley, sniveling.

Leave them be. They aren’t worth the effort. Go! The goblins will be here any minute.

Feeling every stab of her pain, Edmund watched as Molly limped westward. Norb cussed, urging her forward.

“Don’t think about it. Don’t think about anything. Just . . . just keep going,” he told her. “Come on. We have to get out of here!”

Leave them. They deserve what they get. They’ll only slow you down. Look how slowly she’s moving. It would be better if there were multiple trails for the goblins to follow anyway.

As he watched her struggle, a long-forgotten memory came to Edmund’s conflicted mind. In it, a ten-year-old Molly had been cleaning dishes at the Rogue when she cut her hand open on a sharp knife, slicing her finger to the bone. Edmund carried her through the streets of Rood to his mother’s apothecary shop. As his mother bandaged Molly’s hand, she gave Edmund a sidelong glance, a glance that only a knowing mother could give.

Even then, she knew I loved Molly.

And she approved. She always encouraged you to court her.

But I didn’t. Not in the proper way.

Edmund took a deep breath.

Are you sure this is what you want to do?

Stepping out from behind the cedars, Edmund called for Norb to stop.

“Ed!” Norb said. “How, how did you—?”

“Are you okay?” Edmund asked, rushing up to Molly.

Breathing hard, Molly looked at him—terror, guilt, and pain filling her beautiful green eyes. “I fell. I . . . I can’t run.”

Edmund knelt by her side. “Here, let me help.” He touched her swelling ankle. She whimpered and tried to pull it back, but Edmund held her leg gently in his callused hands.

“
Smerte av reise
.”

The swelling subsided. The purplish hue faded.

“How, how . . . how did you?” Molly sputtered. “Ed, are you a, a . . . a witch?”

Terrific! Soon everybody will know. Goblins and witch hunters will both be after you.

“I know a few things,” he said. “B-b-but, but it’s best if you don’t tell anybody. People would kill me if they knew.”

Molly put a hand on his shoulder. “Look . . . Ed,” she began.

Edmund shook his head. “We don’t have time. And . . . and everything is okay. You didn’t know how I felt.”

She bit her bottom lip. “But I did,” she admitted. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . it’s just that . . . well, I always thought of you as a really good friend, you know?”

Edmund inhaled sharply and blinked.

I’d rather have my other eye burnt out than hear that again.

“I . . . I just want to thank you,” she said, touching him again. “For the money and . . . everything. It’s wonderful.”

Edmund blinked at Molly some more, imagining her and Norb spending his family’s fortune.

“The goblins?” Pond reminded them.

“Right,” Edmund said, forcing the air out of his lungs. “Look, d-d-don’t, don’t head toward Rood. Head northwest instead. Here, this way.”

“No, we need to head southwest,” Norb said. “Rood is that way.”

“That’s what they’ll be expecting. They’ll be searching for us that way. We’ve got to head northward and hide in the hills until they lose track of us.”

Norb appeared doubtful.

“He got us into and out of the tower,” Pond said. “I suggest you listen to him.”

“We’ll go north,” Molly said, putting her full weight gingerly on her injured leg. “Which way, Ed?”

They continued for several hours, pushing on northward through the dense forest and into the barren foothills of the Haegthorn. Though it was still early afternoon, Edmund had them rest in a hollow between two large hills for fear of being seen from the valley below.

Norb climbed to the top of the hill where Edmund was keeping watch. “Ed . . . ”

From his hiding spot, Edmund continued scanning the valley beneath them. Over the past hour, he had seen considerable movement. Hundreds of dark shapes had swarmed down from the mountain heights and disappeared under the green sea of cedar trees. Far off, flocks of black birds took to the air as if frightened. However, as of yet, nothing seemed to be heading toward them.

“Ed,” Norb repeated.

“I know what you want to say,” Edmund said. “But you don’t need to. I . . . I left. She . . . she moved on, like you said. Besides,” he added with some bitterness, “we were just friends.”

Norb thrust his hands deeper into his pockets. “I just want you to know that, that I didn’t ask Mol to marry me . . . ”

Married. My god, how much pain can one man endure?

“ . . . I didn’t ask Molly to become my wife because of all the money you gave her.”

Then give it back. It wasn’t meant for you.

“I’ve always cared for Mol,” Norb went on. “You know that.”

Then why didn’t you ask her to marry you before?

Why didn’t you?

“Ed—”

“Norb,” Edmund said with some anger. “I’ve . . . I’ve kind of been through a lot today. I just can’t . . . I just . . . I just want to get Molly to safety. Okay?”

Frowning, Norb nodded, hesitated, and began climbing down the hill.

“Norb,” Edmund said in a gentler tone.

Norb stopped.

“Get some rest. Once it gets dark, we’ll start heading west along this ridge and find a better hiding spot.”